


You Light Up My World

by ratedgrandr



Series: It's a Revolution, I Suppose [5]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: 'i love you', M/M, Picnic, mention of other characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 16:36:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratedgrandr/pseuds/ratedgrandr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac has always known he loved Jehan, but was always waiting for the right time to say it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Light Up My World

**Author's Note:**

> Just some cute fluff written by an anonymous prompte from tumblr asking for a courf/jehan picnic!

There had been plenty of cases where Courfeyrac did things specifically to get laid. He’d taken girls to the ballet, knowing full well they would praise him for sitting through it (which was ridiculous since Courf actually enjoyed going to the ballet but that was his little secret), thus earning them saying “let me show you my appreciation” and dragging him to bed that night. And picnics, oho, picnics were always a sure fire way to get some that night. He’d gone on quite a few picnics with different girls, each a little better than the last. This would be his sixteenth picnic in the name of love, but Courfeyrac had no plans on revealing that to his dinner date tonight for a very good reason. And no, that reason wasn’t because ‘then he wouldn’t get it in.’

In fact, the reason was much more nerve wracking than that. And as Courfeyrac paced across his living room, waiting for the door bell to ring and announce the presence of his boyfriend, he couldn’t help but feel slightly nauseous.

Love was an easy word for Courefyrac to use. He used it at least ten times a day, though honestly it was probably more like 100 times a day and for any situation under the sun. ‘Jehan, I absolutely love the way you’ve done up your hair today!’ ‘Enjolras! Loved the speech, well played, monsieur!’ “Combeferre, I loved that book, just wait until you get to the part where they finally get together!’ And he fell in love on a daily basis. Or so he’d said. No one could better attest to that than Enjolras, who often dealt with a love sick Courfeyrac face down in his bed begging for ‘just five minutes of cuddle time, pleeeaaasse, for Christ’s sake, Enjolras! I’m in fucking love!’ But these past six months… they had been entirely different.

The relationship he’d started with Jehan had started off normally. It was full of breathless kisses, whispered words that made the other blush, twisted fingers squeezing onto each other, holding tightly and thumbs stroking backs of hands in comforting manners. It was full of poetic words and late night whispers under tented blankets, sweet kisses in the rain and innocent, gentle touches that always evolved into something more. “I like you,” Jehan would whisper against soft, flushed skin.

“I like you, too.” Courf would chuckle back as he carded his fingers through Jehan’s silky smooth locks. The man would nuzzle into his touch, spouting off poetry Courfeyrac only half understand but fully loved. Because he loved Jehan. He was head over heels in love with Jehan, but he was so scared to admit it. And he had no idea why.

Maybe it was because this was an easy thing to fuck up. Maybe he was afraid of moving this further because progression meant getting closer to reaching the climax, and while the climax was always the best part, there would always be the downfall afterwards, always. It was the laws of physics or something, and Courf absolutely, wholeheartedly rejected that any kind of downfall would ever come for him and Jehan because he was so blissfully happy that just thinking of this ending broke his heart a little.

At the sound of the door bell Courf practically ran to the front door and Jehan hardly had time to enter the apartment before he had a very passionate Courfeyrac attached to his lips, caressing his cheeks, holding his body firmly against Courf’s as if it was the first kiss they’d shared in ages (when in reality Jehan had only been gone for an hour and a half for class). “Well hello to you, too!” the poet laughed as he tossed his messenger bag aside and didn’t hesitate in wrapping his arms around Courfeyrac’s neck, pulling the other in closer, filling all the spaces between them with warm flesh and soft fabric and fingers that couldn’t get enough purchase.

“I have a surprise for you!” Courfeyrac’s whole face lit with glee as he jumped from the man’s arms. All his nervousness seemed to have dissolved upon seeing Jehan’s angelic face, and it only reminded him why he wanted to tell this man those three stupid words that had been bouncing around his skull as of late. But first, they needed to eat some dinner. And that was precisely what Courfeyrac had in mind as he laced his fingers tenderly through the other man’s and tugged him gently. “Where are we going?” Jehan cocked his head to the side as he followed Courfeyrac like a puppy, his wide blue eyes showing the evident adoration felt towards the other man. While most of Les Amis made fun of the ‘puppy love’ Courfeyrac and Jehan shared, the purity behind the feelings was evident as well as mutual. There were many kinds of love. Enjolras and Grantaire shared a simmering, passionate kind of love that ignited the air like a forest fire, one that left them gasping and spent after a single conversation. Then there was Eponine and Combeferre, whose relationship was easy, careful, and logical. It made complete sense that they should be together, and she fit Combeferre like a glove, or like two pieces of a puzzle. Neither were looking for something overly igniting, and both were comfortable in the simplicity of what they shared. Joly, Musichetta and Bossuett shared a warmth, rather than a love. Granted, modern society called it ‘love,’ but there was so much more depth to what they had that even a word as scared as ‘love’ wasn’t strong enough. Their warmth stuck to every counter and surface they touched, leaving wakes of its heat in their paths, reminding everyone of how strongly they felt for each other and how, though their were three of them, their relationship was often times more functional than that of the others in the group.

And then… then there was Courfeyrac and Jehan. Their love seemed so simple on the outside, quiet and adorable, full of hushed adorations and smothering kisses and an unexplainable heat that flushed their skin, left them breathless from a single touch, kept them longing for more even after they were spent. But they didn’t call it love. That word… it had been avoided like the plague. It was heavy on both tongues, and each time they spoke to each other they longed to use the forbidden word, but Courfeyrac - so afraid of getting hurt - had promised he’d never say it again. And Jehan, so quick to fall into love, like a lost child stumbling back to it’s mother, had sworn to wait until Courfeyrac was ready.

And it was an unspoken tension, their love, because both acknowledged it, but neither could actually say it.

They stopped on the patio of the apartment and immediately Jehan’s eyes widened with a soft ‘oh!’ The sun was setting over the horizon, splaying gorgeous splashes of golds and oranges, purples and gentle salmons, across the spring sky. Their ‘backyard’ was practically non-existent for it was swallowed up by the dark shadows of tall oaks, but that was not the case tonight. Tonight, a small clearing had been made in the brush and one of their old quilts spread upon the fresh green grass. Recycled Christmas lights had been hung precariously from the limbs of the surrounding trees, and candles were piled upon the quilt, illuminating the whole space. It was a scene from a fairy tale, one that even a princess would have been lucky to have stepped into, and immediately Jehan pulled his boyfriend in for a deep kiss. It wasn’t entirely a ‘this is completely adorable!’ kiss, but more or less a ‘thank you for the sentiment, I appreciate the thought’ kind of kiss, one that head to grinding hips and feverish fingers racing across flushed skin. Cheeks blushed, fingers intertwined, lips locked in a heated embrace as Jehan wrapped one leg around Courfeyrac’s slim waist, pressing them closer together, and —

“No! No, you can’t seduce me, not now!” Courfeyrac pulled back and Jehan stumbled forward a step without the warmth of his boyfriend there. The man bit down on his swollen lower lip and ran a hand through his the tangled, curly mop atop his head as he inhaled deeply, regaining his composure. “I mean, I absolutely adore when you seduce me, and you know that, but… I’ve got dinner for us!” Courf’s throat was constricted with lust as he scooped the smaller man up in his arms (Jehan’s thin frame was no problem for the philosophy student), and raced to their woodland hideaway where he collapsed the both of them onto the blanket. Both laughed and rolled over, Jehan straddling Courfeyrac’s hips and peppering his sun kissed face with heated, occasionally open mouthed kisses.  
“You’re not my dinner? Because I could simply devour you right now,” Jehan purred as he nipped at Courfeyac’s earlobe, sucking at it then with an impish grin dancing in his azure orbs.

Immediately Courfeyrac scoffed, “I’m sweet, therefore I am dessert!” Courf chided as he brushed a stray blonde curl behind Jehan’s ear. The man sat up on his elbows and nodded towards a picnic basket. “I made pb&j and mac and cheese for dinner because… I can’t really cook, but…” he trailed off and grinned shyly. “I figured it wouldn’t matter if we didn’t eat fine dining for one night.” Usually Cosette was over to cook for Marius, and the sweet little dear would ‘accidentally’ make too much and ended up practically shoveling food down Jehan and Courf’s throats. Not that he was complaining, but every once and awhile he didn’t mind something simple like sandwiches and craft mac and cheese.

Once their dinner was finished, the two lounged on the quilt, eyes trained towards the sky with Jehan nuzzled closely against Courfeyrac, as if pulling them would cause physical damage to both souls. Jehan lazily traced constellations out with the tip of his finger as Courfeyrac pressed greedy kisses down his boyfriend’s neck, over his shoulder, along his collar bone, anywhere his lips could find purchase. Jehan had long ago shed his chunky sweater in favor of the white v-neck he wore underneath, and both had kicked their shoes off long ago.

“We should just sleep out here, underneath the stars,” Courfeyrac mumbled as his lips traced along golden curls.

“I love you,” Jehan murmured, his eyes widening as he realized what he’d said. Courfeyrac shot straight up, then, and immediately the poet was scrambling, anxious fingers reaching out for Courf and expecting to not find him there. But pads of gentle digits met soft, pliable flesh, and immediately the blonde tugged Courfeyrac against his chest, pressing a frantic kiss to the corner of his boyfriend’s lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, baby, I mean… I meant it but I didn’t mean to say it, I know how… how… Courfeyrac?” Jehan’s brow furrowed as he looked up at Courf. The man wore an absolutely ridiculous grin upon his lips, one that was borderline hysterical. “Are you ok? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare, you, I —”

He was cut off by another passionate kiss, one that sent a chill shivering down Jehan’s spine and caused his stomach to twist into knots as desire flushed through his bloodstream. “I love you, too, Jehan,” he murmured as he nipped the poet’s lower lip, still wearing that utterly obscene grin. “I was going to tell you tonight but… obviously you’ve stolen my thunder.”

Jehan blinked once, twice, a third time before a stupid grin of his own crossed his thin lips. “Seriously?” Courf was chuckling, and nodded once. Jehan tugged Courfeyrac back down onto the blanket, his eyes dancing mischievously as he pressed his lips to Courf’s, running his tongue along the other man’s lower lip and absently grinding their hips together. “Well then, I think it’s about time we celebrate,” he purred into Courf’s ear as he straddled the other man, blonde curls dripping over his shoulder and tickling the brunette’s skin as he was pulled in for another intense kiss.


End file.
